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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237700">inferno</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/catharticvillains/pseuds/catharticvillains'>catharticvillains</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>devils of eden [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Haikyuu!!</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Daddy Kink, Deal with a Devil, Eventual Smut, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Obsession, Slow Burn, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Voice Kink</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-02-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 09:48:38</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,707</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29237700</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/catharticvillains/pseuds/catharticvillains</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>OIKAWA TOORU FELL FROM heaven the moment he turned his gaze from God’s glory. An unnamed archangel of the highest order, he carved his name into Hell’s foundation, rising up through the ranks and escaping the fiery flames of eternal torture, abandoning Lucifer to his fate—agonizing, slow torment in the tenth circle of the Inferno. Without his divine powers and his soul still chained to Lucifer’s in his betrayal of Heaven, he is worse than fallen—he is demonic, closer to darkness than any angel before him. Even the great Morningstar himself, who still retained some shred of light within him as the Prince of Heaven, could not hold a candle to the evil brewing within the former angel’s soul.</p><p>	And God, in all of his omnipotent wisdom, shuddered in fear at the monster his creation had become.</p><p>        (Edited up to chapter two: flaneur.)<br/>        (Formerly "Waking Up The Devil".)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Iwaizumi Hajime/Reader, Oikawa Tooru/Reader</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>devils of eden [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2146902</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>127</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. prologue. lucifer's rebellion. (rewritten.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the rewritten version. chapters one through eight will be rewritten and posted as i finish them. please note that things are very different and may not line up with what you already know about the previous version; i made some pretty drastic changes that, in hindsight, could contradict some points i made further in the chapters.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“NAMELESS ONE.” LUCIFER’S voice was powerful over the sound of feathers rushing through the wind. Not even the thunder booming overhead could deafen him; his voice was strong, his intentions clear, his wings moving with purpose. There was no doubt in his features, ethereal as they were, and not even a twinge of fear as they faced down God’s army and their former comrades. “Why do you join us? The only place for you here is as fodder.”</p><p>“I am aware.” Brown eyes flickered over the glinting gold spears peeking over the cloud cover, catching on the blades of lightning that dove through the sky and split it into blinding halves. The disinterest in his tone was as sharp as any sword, a testament to the only angel who could find boredom and dispassion within Heaven. His wings were the only ones among the army that the Serpent of Eden had amassed that remained a slate gray, neither black nor white, but toeing the delicate edge of light and dark. He chose no side but his own, and that side was not worshipping humans. “I’m… curious.”</p><p>“Curious?” Surprise. There was no other word for it: it was surprise that laced through the Morningstar’s voice, as clear as the star named after him. “You would hinge your life as an angel upon curiosity?”</p><p>“Of course.” They paused in the air, lingering, heaven’s gates hidden to them. The legion of angels at Lucifer’s back stilled, also, awaiting his command. The Nameless One paid it no heed and watched wings dart through the cloud cover above, each feather unnaturally white and as sharp as a dagger. “I have no reason to exist; I am Nameless. If I am to serve for this purpose, then it would be an interesting one, I think, in the end; rebelling against God and our brethren for mortal spawn made in His image. Quite the story, isn’t it?”</p><p>Lucifer looked away. “I have no need for stories, Nameless One.”</p><p>“Ah. I forget.” The angel waved his hand with an air of disdain. “Ever proud Lucifer, too proud to accept aid, too proud to offer anything less than his best, too proud to bow down before humanity as God willed… It is you that got us into this mess, after all; I wonder how many of them follow you out of fear? And how many out of true, genuine loyalty?”</p><p>A quick, deceptive smile, so out of place on an otherwise emotionless face. Lucifer felt his gut lurch.</p><p>“No matter.” The nameless angel shrugged loosely and gestured towards the angels amassing at the crest of an enormous thunderhead. The shadow cast by its density cast darkness over the new world that He had made, blocking out the sun and hiding the discarded ruins of Eden from the eye of God, a scour against his perfect world made imperfect. “They ready their blades and the time for regrets or doubts is gone. Now we must fight for rights that were never ours to have.”</p><p>Lucifer unsheathed his sword, fixed the Nameless One with an unnerving dark gaze. “Rights we never would have had had I not pointed it out to all of them.”</p><p>The Nameless One laughed, opening his many pairs of wings, more than Lucifer had ever seen, right at eight pairs, to catch the draft of wind pushing east from the thunderhead and the thousands of angels riding its silver line. “Rights that they wanted, or rights they never wanted in the first place?”</p><p>Angels began pouring forth from the thunderhead. Quick flashes of gold, white, and ivory, yells of confidence and anger and sorrow bellowing and mingling with the thunderclaps shaking the air around them.</p><p>“They will never last with free will, Lucifer.” With a quick flap of his wings, the gray feathered angel rose above the crowd and hovered over Lucifer’s head, catching the glint of gold off of a shiny, ostentatious helmet molded after the three trinities. “They weren’t made for it.”</p><p>“And you were?” Lucifer raised his sword high. The army followed him, raising their own swords, spears, tridents, and scythes of gleaming silver. “Don’t make me laugh.”</p><p>“I never intended to.” The Nameless One unsheathed his own blade, held it in his hand and closed his eyes at the trembling warmth held within the blade; divine now, but would be no longer once it shed divine blood. The blood of his kin. The blood of the innocent. “I don’t know what I’m made for.”</p><p>Blades clashed. Blood tore through the air, bright and gold and shining underneath bolts of lightning and diluted with droplets of heavy rain. Weapons rained down upon the earth, one by one, followed by the lifeless bodies of angels who had joined Lucifer’s cause.</p><p>A deep wound opened within the sky, glowing red and orange and growing colder as it widened, devouring any angel who fell too close, ripping their souls right from their fresh corpses and dragging them down into a fate only God could give them.</p><p>Lucifer was the last to fall, the Nameless One hurtling through the tear alongside him, chains of ice reaching up, grasping, to drag them even deeper, even farther than the others, down past layers and layers of hard metal, ore, dirt and ice, to their final resting place.</p><p>Hell.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>feedback is appreciated!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. one. ascian. (rewritten.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>this is the rewritten version. feedback is appreciated! you can also give feedback on this feedback form if you don't want to post it on ao3. &lt;3 </p><p>https://docs.google.com/forms/d/1Jj16DSri39o424kTKJPBQRO3n2ZEQSbsmwADTLWexi4/edit</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>HELL IS THE personification of human sin. Despite the various myths and unknown facts that humans exchange between each other, each faction with different or slightly changed beliefs, the truth was this: hell has no ruler, nor was it ever meant to be something to rule over. A creation of God, it was meant to punish those who followed Lucifer in his rebellion and keep the Morningstar himself imprisoned before the return of Jesus upon the Earth. Until then, the souls of mortals would linger in limbo, never in peace, but waiting for a judgement that was uncertain.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nameless One had no issue with leaving Lucifer to his punishment—it was </span>
  <em>
    <span>his </span>
  </em>
  <span>punishment, after all, one he had no part in. At least, not by any stone cold allegiance to an angel who was no less interesting than any other who had fallen into the layers of Hell for the side they had chosen. He had spent long enough in the freezing bowels of Cocytus, reliving memory after memory, pushing past feelings of envy, guilt, sadness, all of it manufactured to torture him until the next coming of Christ, where he would be released and smote down as quickly as he had been freed from his prison. He refused to sit and wallow in wrath and insufferable pride, like the once great Lucifer, and he grew weary of this repetitive cycle—the same punishments, the same hellish overseers who chained him to slabs of frigid marble and allowed frozen creatures of ice and snow to peck at his inhuman flesh until there was nothing left of him. He would renew himself, and he would be on to the next, a permanent, never ending cycle that he was determined to be rid of even if it cost him his life.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Whispers from demons who made contracts with humans reached his ears, like it did with every other ancient being locked in Cocytus. They paid them no mind, but the Nameless One listened, and listened closely, reaching for any scrap of information that might let him escape and earn his freedom once more. The demons, posing as their overseers in phases, would make deals with humans for anything—wealth, extended life, healing, wisdom—in exchange for their immortal souls. It was easy enough for them to sign them over willingly, for no demon had the power to rend souls from mortal coils as the long vanished Archangel, Azrael, did. The humans got what they wanted for a century or so and when it was time for them to pay, the demons would scoop up their souls as payment before they ever reached Edom, the Realm Between.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over thousands of years, humanity changed. The Nameless One was not surprised when they quickly surpassed the need for making contracts with his admittedly disgusting overseers; many of them worshipped his Creator in one century and disregarded Him the next, fluctuating in rapid and interesting cycles of belief and disbelief and even going as far as to kill in His name—a sin that would earn them quite the nice place in Cocytus, if it was awful enough. The most recent event discovered a splitting, a chasm between belief and disbelief or outright hereticism.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By then, the Nameless One had grown tired of listening, tired of the aches and pains in his bones and flesh, tired of the endless amount of scars that formed on his body from divine weapons used against him. He did not recognize the immortal body given to him by God any longer. It was wrought with damage, with darkness that seeped into him over thousands of centuries of torture and anguish and pain, creating a place right alongside his angelic soul that threatened to snuff out the light of his divinity any time he wavered. The entirety of Cocytus was dyed gold from the blood of the angels who had fallen, creating a mimicry of a golden city draped with chains and occupied by demons far older than he was.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“An angel made his way out of the gate,” one of the demons overseeing his punishment told another, brandishing a cat o’ nine tails against the hard ice wall to test its strength. The knots and metal shards ripped away chunks and left ragged scratches in its wake, each individual tumbling past the Nameless One’s eyesight. “Left his angelic soul behind and climbed right out into the human world. Once he was gone, the Hounds couldn’t find him over the stench of humanity.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The man on high isn’t doing anything?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The demon swung the cat o’ nine tails down across the angel’s shoulders and shoulder blades harshly. It cracked against skin and cartilage, ripping away flesh and muscle and sending blood scattering across the already gold stained walls. The Nameless One was numb to it, far too used to the pain to manage a scream, and felt another lash against the back of his legs, severing the ligament in his knee keeping him upright. He sunk to the ground and earned another lash to his head, chunks of hair and flesh leaving with every scrape of the knots and metal.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, ever since his incarnation died and returned he’s been absent from human life.” The demon shrugged. “No one knows why. Orders haven’t changed, though, so we’re going to be here until the second coming.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Demons talked like humans, oddly enough, after spending enough time in the mortal world. It had started after the rise in worshippers of Lucifer—which the Nameless One found the tiniest bit funny—and they had picked up slang and little fragments of human made language since then, to the point where the Nameless One had picked it up as well and understood when they spoke with contractions and odd metaphors like ‘a cat has nine lives’. A cat did not have nine lives, but he figured the sentiment was more widely used by mortals rather than demons.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But he had his way out now—all that was left to do was separate his angelic soul from… whatever the darkness was that clung to it like a lifeline. He wasn’t sure what it was—it did not feel like anything he had ever felt before in his thousands of years being alive. Not even Lucifer felt as he did, as if there was a second entity slumbering away inside him waiting to reach up and strangle his immortal soul down into the abyss it had come from. He had no name for it, no clue as to when it had begun to fester, to rise like an insidious boil that refused to go away; but it remained, and grew every day, faster, until it was the size of his soul and growing, turning the color of oil against water.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pain became an annoyance as the angel worked tirelessly to undo every miniscule stitch that kept his angelic soul tied to the darkness within him. The punishments, once agonizing and overpowering each time he went through them, were nothing more than nuisances. Even Lucifer, whispering to him when they changed punishments, was an irritant he couldn’t get rid of, lingering in his head even when he was gone and distracting him from his freedom.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Stories reached him of others escaping in the same way he wished to: their souls lingering behind as their physical body rose to the mortal world and climbed through the portal, never to be seen again. The silvery silhouettes of their angelic souls were immune to torture, to time, to pain; there was nothing the demons could do to them unless they had their physical bodies to bind them.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lucifer spoke to him, before he’d tore his angelic soul from his body, while the demons were busy chasing down another angel before he could escape to the portal. “You are perhaps the only one of the original legion who still remains with me. I thank you for that, Nameless One.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t thank me just yet.” The angel lifted his limp wing from the ground, tattered and ruined past flight; stray feathers drifted to the ground, each one darker than the last, until the final one was as black as pitch. “You might despise me one day.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t see how that will be possible.” Lucifer sounded amused; tired, but amused. Hell got to him slowly but surely, and in pieces—where the Nameless One remained indifferent to his punishments, Lucifer allowed them to get to him, made him doubt, made him wonder. He was no longer as brilliant or commanding as he used to be; he was weak, cowed, sufficiently imprisoned in Hell. He would never escape, not as long as he thought he deserved the punishment for what he had done. “You may be my only friend left here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The demons returned before the Nameless One could admit to what he was about to do. It was for the best, perhaps; because when he finally tore his soul from his body, he felt the darkness stir. The demons were ready for him, as if they had known what he was about to do.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t let him escape!” One shouted, a shadowy figure dwarfed by the others who were bigger, physical, and dangerous. They were blurs as he shoved past them and clambered over them one by one, desperate to reach the golden glowing light of the portal just behind them. “If he escapes, we’re all doomed!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nameless One didn’t know about that. He fought his way through the crowd, until all that was left was a slowly healing group of demons, keening in high pitched voices as their heads slowly found their way back to their severed necks. Demon blood, black and viscous, like tar, dripped off of his body and smelled harshly of brimstone, but he couldn't bring himself to care as he once would.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a moment of weakness, or concern, that was as brief as a brush of wind, he turned to look back at the depths of Cocytus once more. There, standing chained to a frozen throne he would never own, stood Lucifer, anger and fury burning in his eyes where there once held friendliness, affection. His entire person radiated betrayal, his wings high and bristled, but the Nameless One didn’t care like he thought he would have when he imagined betraying the great Morningstar.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>No, no—he felt a sense of relief, instead.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Casting a quick glance to the demons at his feet, the angel turned and walked into the portal without a second thought, fresh, clean air entering his lungs the same time a dark, evil voice spoke within his mind, a thousand voices merged into one, stopping him dead in his tracks in a field of blush red poppies, baby’s breath, and calla lilies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Freedom… At last.</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. two. flaneur. (rewritten.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always feedback is appreciated! 💕 (this is the rewritten version.)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p><p>
  <span>THE MORTAL WORLD was as he recalled it to be; wild, lush, and potent with life. The grass beneath his feet was cool and damp, as if there had been a light rain just seconds before he stepped out of the portal, and </span>
  <em>
    <span>real. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He could touch it with his fingers, feel the sunlight and energy coursing through its very veins, could feel the way the earth beneath him trembled at his touch, bowed against his power and immensity. He could pinpoint every human being on the planet down to their heartbeats, their individual thoughts and emotions, to a degree where he was certain his powers could rival even Lucifer’s, as glorious as his former brother had been.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He twisted a blade of grass between his fingertips, watching the pieces split and tear apart under the force, much like his soul and the darkness rolling like a thundercloud within him. His wings grew a steady black the longer he stood apart from his angelic soul, each feather turning more jagged, more rough, the sharpened edges growing dangerously serrated. His wings were no longer the slate gray he had sported all his life, proud of the line he toed when forever opposed both heaven and hell; they were now black as pitch, sparkling like oil in a field of water. He could even feel horns beginning to rise from the top of his skull, long, delicate things that curled around the back of his head and ended in points just above his eyes in a mimicry of a diadem.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The Nameless One was no longer an archangel, or any sort of being that existed previously. He was new; he was fresh from hell, born out of both light and dark, without a shred of divinity left within him—except maybe there was. A small spark, barely there, fighting against the evil within with all of its might, bent on surviving, existing in a world where it was unwanted.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who are you?” A man stepped out of the treeline. He crushed poppies and baby’s breath as he walked, uncaring of the tiny lives he had snuffed out. His hair was cropped short to his head in a style that the Nameless One had never seen before, and he wore clothing made of mixed fabrics, even shoes of bizarre color that sparked no memory within him. He was foreign, and yet he was not, for the Nameless One could smell the divinity on him, could smell Hell on him like a second natural scent, an odor of sharp citrus and brimstone. He was no more powerful than any other Second Sphere angel but could easily sit within the top of those ranks, for certain. “Answer me, Fallen One.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Here was an angel the Nameless One did not recognize, but knew had participated in Lucifer’s crusade against God besides. He allowed the grass strands to flutter to the ground at his feet, wings—all six pairs of them—rolling in circular motions  to ease the ache of centuries of torture from his shoulders and spine. While the scars on his body were forever healed, the pain within continued to linger, dragging down his coil of flesh and bone until he was almost mindless. The gravity of this world pulled upon him like chains, made him ache, made him hurt, made him feel heavy in many ways that he could not put a name to but knew existed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re an archangel,” the man continued when the angel offered no answer to him. His expression appeared almost permanently angry, or stern, and he took a step closer to him, eyes flickering over his wings and features. “But you’re not Lucifer, and all of the others are already here. So... you can only be the Nameless One. Am I right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Congratulations.” The Nameless One’s voice was a multi dimensional purr, shaking the atoms around them and causing the air to physically vibrate. The flowers wilted near his bare feet, succumbing to the raw power that filtered off of his skin in harsh waves; the trees bowed towards him; the mountains trembled. “Your assumption is correct…” He paused, flicking through the other angel’s memories with razor sharp metaphysical claws until he found the right one. “Iraphel.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s Iwaizumi now.” Iraphel, or Iwaizumi, crossed his arms. At the Nameless One’s questioning look, he added,”To exist here, we must have human names. You’ll have to choose one if you’re going to stay here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The archangel turned his head back to the portal, sealed off and permanently closed. No other would be going through it if he had the choice; keeping Lucifer in Hell was the best opportunity he would have at being free of his beliefs and doctrine before armageddon. And Lucifer would be loathe to part with his divinity, besides, he assumed, still too caught up in heaven, in their Father, who he so desperately loved and despised in the same breath. He would not be going back to that, to an angel who regretted his decision and affirmed it by the very existence of Hell—no, he was too proud, and he had already betrayed his friend once. A second time would be unforgivable.</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“I have no intention of returning to Hell.” The Nameless One rubbed his wrists where he could still feel the imprints of the cuffs used to bind him in Cocytus. He would likely never get rid of the phantom pains, but it was a small price to pay for such freedom, where God had turned a blind eye and relied on humanity’s sense of morality to provide the right path for them. “No, I don’t think I ever will.”</span>
</p><p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p><p>
  <span>“Right… Well, you’ll still need a name.” Iwaizumi’s eyes darted up and down his physical form, still covered in the inhuman toga given to him in hell. “And normal clothes—”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In a brief moment, the Nameless One was clothed. He had mimicked the outfit of a human nearby, had chosen him at random, and altered the outfit to fit his human body as he pleased. It was strange to wear so many layers; a pair of undergarments, pants, a shirt, and brown overcoat that ended just at his knees. Even the shoes would take getting used to, flat and close toed and restricting. He had learned much from that human just by browsing through his mind, but it was such a small part of a vast world, he was beginning to learn. “Is this acceptable?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Iwaizumi blinked. “Yeah, but… I guess it’s fine. Now you just need a name.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Another facet of humanity plucked from an unknowing human; he paired one with another that seemed reasonable, disliking several of the meanings that came from some of them, and came up with one he liked, to a degree, and felt he could live with for some time if needed. “Oikawa Tooru.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you get that from someone else?” Iwaizumi inquired. At Oikawa’s nod, he shook his head and grumbled under his breath. “Just how powerful are you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I am unsure.” Oikawa shrugged and knelt down to pluck a dead flower from the ground. It dissolved in his hand at the touch, crumbling into a fine black powder that smelled just like Cocytus—icy and unforgiving. He allowed it to fall to the ground with the strand of grass in a mimicry of snow, each individual flake following its own path just as he would. “Separating from my divine soul has amplified my powers. It will be some time yet until I am able to control them properly.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well… Shit.” Iwaizumi exhaled a sharp breath and ran a hand through his hair. He rocked back on his heels, tilted his head to the sky, and groaned. “Right, huh, okay—let’s get you out of here. We can deal with the rest when it comes up.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa held out a hand towards where he knew the city was. “Lead the way, Iwaizumi.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>For the next several years, Oikawa—his identity as the Nameless One shed from his mind like an old skin—roamed the city of Tokyo and the entirety of Japan in search of knowledge. From farming to technology, he wanted to know it all, to learn about this world his Father coveted so much, to know if he could learn to love it as strongly too—but instead, he found something else. Something equally as precious, a diamond among moissanite.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>A human girl.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oikawa, look!” Tiny hands reached up to shine a reflective piece of multicolored glass up to the sun. Rays of blue, red, pink, and yellow reflected upon soft flesh, the corner of a [color] eye, and fewest strands of [color] hair shining underneath the light. “Look what I made today! Isn’t it pretty?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of course it is!” The archangel peered over her shoulder to look up through the glass with her. It was a depiction of an angel, ironically enough, dressed in a white gown and a golden halo hovering above its head. Interestingly, it looked much like Lucifer, with dark hair and blue eyes, though that had to have been an artistic choice and not because the child knew what the Morningstar truly looked like. “Can I keep it, [Name]-chan?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Over the years, he had picked up on the language, dialect, and social mannerisms. It had allowed him to form a personality that was more acceptable among humans, most of them unused to the formality that angels had ingrained into their very existence. Iwaizumi had helped him along in that regard, forcing him to use casual slang, contractions, even made him learn other languages, although any language other than Japanese or Spanish was difficult for him. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Suspicious [color] eyes flickered up to regard him. “You promise you’ll keep it safe?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I promise.” As an afterthought, he held out his hand and stuck out his pinkie. “Pinkie promise! I’ll keep it safe, or you can hit me if I haven’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In that time, he had come across her—[Name] [Surname]. A little orphan girl with no parents, no home, not even a penny to her name. It had been an accident that he met her in the first place, injured from a fight with an angel that had left him grounded for some time. She had tended to him as best as she could, but his wings just weren’t safe enough for childish hands to heal, and since then, he had a fond spot for her despite Iwaizumi advising otherwise. Human connections were dangerous, he’d told him, especially ones that came from the heart.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But, Oikawa mused, every time his best friend shook his head at him when he returned from the orphanage, what Iwaizumi didn’t know wouldn’t kill him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How will I know if you haven’t though?” [Name]’s nose scrunched cutely in thought. “I’m at the orphanage all the time and you don’t live here.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Oikawa hummed in thought. [Name]’s orphanage, centered in the middle of Eden, the safe realm that the first Fallen to crawl out of Hell had created to hide them from the world, was only a few blocks away from Oikawa’s apartment. While humans were allowed to enter Eden, they could never leave once they learned of their existence, and if they still wanted to, then their memories would be wiped clean. It was likely that was what would happen to [Name] one day, if she was adopted. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re right.” He nodded his head in agreement. Then, with a flourish of his hand, he produced a brilliant white light in his palm—bright, but also dim, and full of color. [Name] gasped at its beauty, reaching for it with greedy hands. “No, no! This is part of my soul. You can’t just grab it like that, it’s too fragile.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She frowned at the scolding, but dropped her hands. “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No need. Just be more careful,” Oikawa advised.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He had been waiting for the right moment to do this. Iwaizumi had often told him he needed to find a safe place to put the remnants of his divine soul, and what better place than a human he was fond of?</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Here.” The bright light floated above his hand for a moment before shooting into [Name]’s chest. Her hands flew to her collarbone, patting the area, and she showed no sign of pain; but Oikawa could sense her like a beacon now, a human with a hint of divinity within her. “You can keep this; as long as you never break it, I’ll make sure to never break your glass.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The smile that erupted upon her face was both heartbreaking and beautiful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Thanks, Oikawa!”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. three. (rewriting.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Part one.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"SO, WHAT DO YOU think?" Your friend's voice was drowned out by the music blasting from the speakers. Neon lights pulsed to the bass of Chase Atlantic's "Swim", a song that had been put into your playlist only recently. "Cool, right?"</p><p>You reached up and adjusted the neck of your shirt. "Yeah, a bit cold though—are all strip clubs like this?"</p><p>When you had accepted the job to make some extra cash to squeeze you through the last semester of college, it had been a no brainer. The Valeria was one of the most prominent clubs in Eden, frequented by both angels and demons alike, contrary to what your adopted parents had told you when you were nineteen. You lucked out with your best friend being the owner of the establishment.</p><p>"Yeah, the cold keeps people from getting sleepy and wanting to go home which, in turn, encourages them to spend more money." Kiyoko shrugged and you laughed at her nonchalant tone. "Anyway, the girls are rehearsing before the night starts. There's a fight club down the street and a lot of the fighters like to pop in when their adrenaline's high."</p><p>"I bet it doesn't hurt that some of them won cash," you joked lightly. "Devils or angels?"</p><p>"Both. Just keep an eye out for our regulars. Lev will point them out to you." Kiyoko pointed to the desk manager who, even from your distance, seemed to be a lanky giant. He waved when you looked over. "He's harmless. A bit tone deaf, but harmless. If you ever need help just go to him."</p><p>"Gotcha." You waved back tentatively and looked to the stage where girls were practicing and laughing. "So, do I go over there or…?"</p><p>Kiyoko shook her head and pointed to the bar. "No, I'm starting you off at the bar. You were a pretty good bartender from what I remember so you can do what you're familiar with."</p><p>Your relief was palpable. "Thanks, Kiyoko. I don't think dancing is what I'm good at anyway."</p><p>"You're welcome. Let me know if you want to back out, okay?" She crossed her arms. "A lot of the customers can be a bit… much."</p><p>"It's okay, I've dealt with rude customers before," you reassured her. "I'll just be making drinks right?"</p><p>"Yeah, but the uniform is pretty revealing. Just be careful."</p><p>Kiyoko wasn't lying. When she finally left you to get ready, you discovered the level of skimpiness with your own eyes.</p><p>It was, in a sense, just a plain black bikini with a crystal body harness for taste. That might not have been so bad if it hadn't been made deliberately a size too small and threatened to show your assets if you even breathed wrong. While the body harness was flattering to your curves, you couldn't help but be nervous by the amount of skin you were showing.</p><p>Paired with black strappy heels, you looked like you had stepped right out of a Maxim magazine. That was probably what Kiyoko had intended.</p><p>With a sigh, you exited the bathroom and headed towards the bar. Lev flagged you down before you could get there, though, and curious, you approached him, an unintentional sway in your step from the heels.</p><p>"Hey, [Name]! I'm Lev, nice to meet you." He offered his hand and you shook it, afraid to be seen as rude if you didn't. "Kiyoko forgot to give you your ID so I dug one out from the storage room. Don't lose it."</p><p>He handed you a lanyard with a plastic card on it. It was a generic identification card with nothing special about it, except your name taped to the top part on a sticker.</p><p>"Thanks." Lev smiled at you and you couldn't help but notice the peculiar color of his eyes and hair. "If it's okay to ask, Lev, are you…?"</p><p>"Human? Nope." He snickered at the look on your face. "Don't look so scared, it's fine. I'm a devil. Kiyoko recruited me when fighting didn't pan out for me."</p><p>"So that's common among your… kind?" This was all so new to you. You reached up and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. Lev tracked the movement idly, as if he couldn't help it. "Fighting, I mean."</p><p>"Yeah. Devils are notorious for their high tempers," he explained. "Fighting usually helps that. Or sex, but that's a personal preference. You might get propositioned a few times but that's normal."</p><p>"I see." You rubbed your elbows and rocked back on your heels. "Is there anything I should be worried about?"</p><p>"Not really. Just stay away from the Aoba Johsai devils if you can. They're pretty obvious and travel in a tight knit group. The only trustworthy person in it is Iwaizumi Hajime, I'd say, so you can serve him." Lev shrugged. "Though he's not coming in on your shift. There's a lot of fights going on tonight."</p><p>"Okay. Thanks, Lev."</p><p>"No problem."</p><p>Your first night as bartender went without a hitch, unless you counted the few guys who hit on you every chance they got. It wasn't rowdy, which you assumed was from the fights going on, and you managed to clock out with a decent paycheck and a tiredness that was seeping into your bones.</p><p>As you walked out the front doors, waving goodbye to Lev—he seemed nice enough, regardless, and you needed new friends in Eden now that you were taking online classes—you stepped out into what you could only guess was the line to the fight club.</p><p>It ran almost two blocks, people wearing unusual chic clothes to watch someone's face get beaten in. The line consisted primarily of girls, you noticed, and adjusted the straps of your gym bag on your shoulder.</p><p>You prepared to turn on your heel and head to your apartment in North Eden, where the humans lived, when something told you to turn around and check out the fight club. It wasn't as if you had anything to do at the moment, and your classes had been delayed for next week due to the school's security issues. You would be bored out of your mind at home, you knew, but you side eyed the line and the multiple people lining it.</p><p>Maybe not…</p><p>"You must be [Name]."</p><p>You jumped in fright when the doors opened behind you. Reflexively, you made a first, but when you saw the familiar face of the girl who had been on stage, you sighed in relief. "Sorry. I'm just jumpy."</p><p>"That's fine." She smiled to reveal perfect white teeth. Her hair made you sick with envy; long, auburn curls that dangled down to her hips in thick ringlets. "I'm Lulu. I'm sorry I didn't introduce myself inside."</p><p>"No, no it's okay. You were practicing." You smiled in return. Then, you pointed to the line of people. "Are they always this long?"</p><p>"To Yulara?" Lulu inquired. "Yeah. The lines depend on the fighters. They have an elite lineup tonight. Why? Did you want to go?"</p><p>She took the sheepish expression that crawled over your face as an affirmative.</p><p>"Alright. Come on." Lulu linked her arm through yours and, with little difficulty, began skipping through the line. People parted like the dead sea for her and you were just dragged along for the ride. "I'll get you in. Consider it a welcome gift!"</p><p>"Are you sure we should be skipping these people?"</p><p>"Of course. We work at Valeria; we have VIP passes," Lulu replied cheerfully. At the front of the line was a bouncer dutifully checking people in and stamping their wrists with ultraviolet ink. "Hey, Aone! This is [Name]. She's new and wanted to see the fights."</p><p>You expected him to be suspicious of you. He was quite intimidating, eyes narrowed and his height did nothing but terrify you. Instead, with a quick movement, he marked your wrist and sent you inside.</p><p>Lulu grinned. "Thanks, Aone. I'll see you when I get home."</p><p>Bewildered, you glanced between her and the now blushing male, then back to Lulu. She shrugged and put a finger over her lips. You mimed zipping yours in response.</p><p>Lulu escorted you down a flight of stairs that led into a wide open room filled with people. In the center was a circle of wire and fence, keeping what looked like a pit closed off. You could only guess that's where there were people fighting.</p><p>"This is where I leave you." She patted your back. "Have fun! Don't drink the wine though, people always roofie it before the fights start."</p><p>"Oh. Okay." You smiled. "Thanks again."</p><p>"No problem." With a wave she retreated back up the stairs.</p><p>You took a deep breath and looked back towards the ring, your curiosity taking over. Clutching your gym bag, you began to pave your way through the crowd, unaware of the familiar face flashing across an LED screen over the door.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Feedback is appreciated! 💕 What do you guys think so far?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. four. (rewriting.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>ADRENALINE HAD OIKAWA'S demon biting at the metaphorical bit. It had been almost thirty minutes since his starting match had ended and made room for someone else's and that short match hadn't been enough for him.</p><p>Iwaizumi watched him pace the crude locker room with an air of disinterest. His eyes betrayed his concern as his friend struggled with his devil, constantly keeping in motion and unable to stay idle.</p><p>"You need to calm down, Shittykawa." Iwaizumi tossed a stress ball at him and grimaced as the force of his fist popped it with little effort. "If you don't cool your jets they'll have you off the roster faster than you can blink."</p><p>Oikawa ran a hand down his face with a snort. The seals on his body seemed to visibly ripple as the magic began working on the devil, flaring red slightly. "Sooner or later I won't be able to calm down."</p><p>"Something to deal with when we get there." He reached into his pockets for a blunt that he'd rolled just for this reason. If all else failed, inebriate him until he couldn't remember his own name. "Here."</p><p>Oikawa took it without much more begging. Instead of waiting for his friend to pull out a lighter, he stuck it between his lips and ran his thumb over the end. Flames jumped from his skin and lit the rolling paper. Smoke rolled from his nose when he exhaled, combining with the brimstone that his devil was creating in his lungs.</p><p>"Thanks," he mumbled after a moment, patting his shoulder roughly. Oikawa declined against the counter framing the mirror with a sigh, taking a few more extra moments to clear his head. "Who's the next match?"</p><p>Iwaizumi hummed and pulled out his phone. "Says here it's some human. Supposedly to 'even out the species quo' or something."</p><p>Oikawa blew a cloud of smoke into the air. "That's a death wish just waiting to happen. One wrong move and an angel or devil could sever his head from his shoulders."</p><p>"Yeah." He shrugged and put away his phone. "He signed the contract so you won't be liable for his death."</p><p>"Good. The last thing I need is for someone to sue me again." The brown haired male cleared his throat and reached for Iwa's water bottle. Once he'd gotten rid of the itch in his throat he said,"So how are things going with the new kid?"</p><p>By new kid, he assumed Oikawa meant Kyotani. Kyotani was one of the only 'possessed' humans he'd ever come across in his life. A human boy who'd had his soul sold to the Devil before he could even sign away his rights. Supposedly it had been his mother but the semantics didn't matter, at least not to the Aoba Johsai devils. What mattered was that he was dangerous and a threat to society.</p><p>Oikawa had found him somehow. He had never said where, but Iwaizumi had a hunch—not that he would ever admit it out loud. The truth was a little too terrifying.</p><p>"He's fine. Kindaichi's watching him for the night. He'll let me know if something goes wrong."</p><p>"At least someone has a semblance of control." In a matter of minutes, Oikawa had finished off the blunt and ground the remains into the wall. He looked far more calm than he had been in weeks and walked with a slow elegance that was almost disturbing. "The devil's quiet now. Thanks, Iwa-chan."</p><p>It had been a long time since Oikawa had ever added -chan to his name. Iwaizumi's worry only grew.</p><p>"No problem." He checked his phone again. "Your match is almost up. Are you ready?"</p><p>"Sure thing." He watched his friend stretch his arms and pop his knuckles. The brace on his bad knee was suspiciously hidden underneath his sweatpants. "Maybe I won't kill someone this time."</p><p>Iwaizumi could only sigh. "Let's hope so."</p><p>Flashing him a fake smile, Oikawa sent a peace sign his way and ambled towards the door, the marijuana in his system leaving his head unusually empty and his devil without purchase to take over.</p><p>It was always like this, he supposed. Every fight was a battle to stay in control. Every night was a war to make sure his devil didn't devour his soul and turn him into the very thing his father had created him for. All because his devil wanted to throw a five year long tantrum over a girl he wasn't even sure was alive anymore.</p><p>The techie at the door waved him forward and scanned his hand so his identity would be uploaded to the magic runes above the door. That way he could be queued into the match and the betting pools could begin.</p><p>On a tiny projected screen, Oikawa watched the numbers soar past the millions before he could even blink twice. "We must have big players tonight huh?"</p><p>The techie chuckled. "You can say that again. Your match is in five minutes. You know the procedure."</p><p>"Yeah, yeah." He rolled his shoulders in dismissal. "Has my opponent registered yet?"</p><p>"Seems like it. He's been knocking out his competition so far." The man displayed a set of numbers for him. 4 to none. "Although none of them were devils, I'm sure you could guess."</p><p>"Figures." He sighed. "Are we good to go now?"</p><p>"Yes sir, just step through the doors and wave to the crowd. Good luck."</p><p>Oikawa scoffed and pushed open the door. The crowd outside was wild, screaming when his arm came up on the display screen above.</p><p>"I don't need luck." His smile was savage. "I need violence."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Last chapter for the night! 💕 Would you all prefer longer chapters or lots of short chapters? Let me know!</p><p>Feedback is appreciated. 😊</p><p>You can also head to my tumblr and make requests and such. Because why not? 👀</p><p>http://catharticvillains.tumblr.com</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. five. (rewriting.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>THE JOSTLING OF THE crowd did little to ease your nerves. You were constantly worried that someone would reach into your bag and steal your wallet—the participants looked that seedy to you—or push you so far to the back of the crowd that you’d sustain injuries in the process. You almost regretted standing so close to the fencing when people started throwing confetti and what looked like bras and underwear down into the arena. That was a UTI melting pot just waiting to happen.</p><p>	A man sidled up to you after a timer started on the tiny bars lining the fence. You would have ignored him, except his features were striking and his hair was one of the more bizarre styles you’d seen—tufts of spikes, each one seemingly held there by gravity alone—and narrowed eyes that were fixed on his phone screen. His name was written on the sleeve of his jacket, but you couldn’t make it out because of the giant wrinkles in the elbow. He didn’t even seem to notice how close he was to you so you subtly edged away, clutching your bag and looking back at the timer which was slowly counting down from ten.</p><p>	The closer it got to one, the more rowdy the crowd became. You cringed at the loud screams echoing in your ears and the booming music that had started up, likely to drown out the crowd itself for the fighters, and tried to focus on the opening doors in the center of the arena on either side.</p><p>	An announcer, hidden somewhere in a back room, coughed and tapped a microphone. The speakers squealed and all of the music cut off abruptly, as did the cheering of the crowd, proving your theory about drowning them out wrong.</p><p>	“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, devils and angels,” the announcer said after a moment. “How are we doing tonight?”</p><p>	The resounding responses were loud enough that you almost jumped out of your skin.</p><p>	“Good, good! As you all know, the betting pool for tonight’s next match is unusually high; but so is the matchup—if you have not placed bets, I would suggest you do so before the end of the three rounds so you can rake in the rewards.” A sly laugh. “Anyway, we have our first contender: Yuriel Bane! Give it up for the human!”</p><p>	You watched as a man stepped out of the right door. He wore only shorts embroidered with the company name of his sponsor and waved to the crowd cheerfully. You clapped with the rest of them to be polite, but looking around you could tell that no one was rooting for the man—humans never fared well in Eden, you’d heard, at least in places like this.</p><p>	“What a polite applause,” the announcer noted, a thread of amusement in his voice. “I almost feel bad for him. What do you all think?”</p><p>	Like you thought, everyone agreed.</p><p>	“I thought so. Well, of course, he is fighting a devil—a notorious one at that. I’m sure you all know him, or why would you even be here?”</p><p> </p><p>	You had no clue who it was but the crowd did. Their shouts and screams were enough to rattle the fence—or maybe that was you just shaking from nerves—and consequently your bones. You’d have a pounding headache after this, you were dead certain.</p><p>	“Wow, you guys are really excited huh?” The announcer snickered. “Well, there’s no reason to delay the inevitable. Ladies, gentlemen, devils and angels, I give you Abaddon, the destroyer!”</p><p>	The door opened—but no one was there.</p><p>	Faster than you could blink, the human man was already on the floor, hit hard enough that he was reeling from the hit. In a few moments he was up and fighting with the seemingly invisible figure—he was hard to keep up with with human vision—and you watched as the man reached back in his pocket and throw a silvery substance in the other fighter’s, Abaddon’s, face. It sparkled in the light as it fluttered to the ground, but the effect it had on him was surprising; he stopped dead in the middle of the ring, right before the human man.</p><p>	You couldn’t see much or make out a whole lot since his tattooed back was to you, but you could just barely see the blood dripping to the floor so quickly that it was almost like a running faucet.</p><p>	“Penalty!” the announcer shrieked, panic overtaking his normal voice. “The opponent has used angel dust!”</p><p>	Angel dust; you knew the name. It was a particularly harmful substance to devils, used to exorcise the weaker ones from the human world and potentially fatally wound a higher ranked one either in Eden or on Earth. Judging by the nosebleed this Abaddon had, you judged he had to be pretty powerful.</p><p>	Beside you, the man mumbled,”Oh, shit,” but not for the reason you suspected.</p><p>	“The medic has requested the match to be paused,” the announcer said after a moment. The crowd was so silent you could have heard a pin drop. “Please wait a moment.”</p><p>	A man in scrubs appeared from the right door and escorted Abaddon to a folding bench in the corner that you hadn’t noticed before. He stepped in front of the devil before you could get a good look at his nose, swiping what looked like an alcohol wipe over the blood to clean it up and examine his nostrils. Whatever he saw clearly wasn’t cutting it and he made exaggerated movements while he was speaking, pointing harshly to the human man and then seemingly getting angry at the devil when he didn’t respond.</p><p>	After a few tense minutes, the medic packed up and gave the crowd a thumb’s up, indicating that everything was okay. No one said a word.</p><p>	You watched the medic leave and then looked back to the bench, curious to see what the angel dust had done exactly, when your body rapidly caught up with what your eyes were seeing—your heart dropped to your stomach so fast that nausea hit you square in the gut.</p><p>	You knew this devil—except he hadn’t been a devil. Had he? Or… was he one all along?</p><p>Oikawa Tooru.<br/>
Your eyes were fixed upon him like spears of unholy fascination. He sat upon the medic's bench as if it were his throne, legs bent and spread lazily to make room for the growing puddle of blood at his feet. The muscles in his arms flexed, ropes of black ink and skin and brands moving with the sleek subtlety of a panther ready to strike.<br/>
He was agitated. Angry. Pissed off.<br/>
You could see the smoke curling up from his shoulders and billowing from his nose and mouth. It was a stark contrast to the pale gray of the fog machine, a brilliant white and rolling into the air. You could feel the nervousness and anxiety coming off of the man beside you in waves, his concern trained on the man in the ring.<br/>
"Fuck this shit." You could read his mouth from where you stood twenty feet above behind a steel cage. "If he wants to toss the rules, I can toss the goddamn rules."<br/>
He was up and off the bench before the medic could finish sewing up the gash on his cheek. His opponent wasn't expecting it--not the blatant disregard for rules or the superhuman strength behind Oikawa's punch.<br/>
You heard the crack of a neck snapping before you saw it. His head lolled back and followed his body in a swift motion, hitting the concrete with a solid thump. Blood wept from a wound at the back of his head, creating a horrific halo around his corpse.<br/>
Oikawa Tooru emerged the victor.<br/>
But when he turned, ready to raise his arms for the victory cheer, he caught your eye. You hadn't wanted him to, had meant to leave before he ever turned around and caught a glimpse of your coat.<br/>
His nose flared, muscles bunching tight like live wire. He could smell you now, over the throng of people tossing money into the pit and the blood streamlining down his cheek, and your blood heated in your veins, responding to a painfully familiar call.<br/>
You were caught.</p><p>	Your first instinct was to run. To run far, and fast, and away from this man, who you had no idea was a devil, or even a man who could kill someone so easily. You couldn’t even focus on the dead body in the middle of the ring; your eyes were pulled to Oikawa’s—or Abaddon’s— like magnets, surprised at the familiar color and the unfamiliar emotions in them.</p><p>	You had no chance to escape.</p><p>	He was scaling the fence before you could even blink, faster than a bolt of lightning, and was in front of you within a breath, breathing hard and streaked with blood droplets across his chest and neck. You instinctively looked up at his face, red with blood and his own nosebleed, and felt two hands creep up the sides of your neck and face—gentle, soft, as if they hadn’t just battered the life out of a man just seconds before. You felt blood, warm and wet still, smear down your skin with the movements of his fingers against your skin.</p><p>	It almost felt like those days back at the orphanage.</p><p>	And then, shattering your innocent thoughts of your past together as children, Oikawa pulled you into a bruising, soul shattering kiss.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>f e e d b a c k k k k &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. six. (rewriting.)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>OIKAWA WAS A DEVIL. The more you thought about it, the more it made sense—his peculiar behavior, the way he would appear more than human at times, how he knew so much about the world despite not being much older than you at the time. You could have slapped yourself for missing it in the first place. It had been so obvious—so why, then, hadn’t you noticed to begin with?</p><p>After he’d kissed you, he’d been roughly yanked back by the man who had stood beside you near the ring. You weren’t able to make even a peep, your emotions overwhelming you: anger, curiosity, relief that Oikawa wasn’t dead like you’d thought, and finally, settling on betrayal—betrayal that he hadn’t told you he was a devil when he’d had the chance.</p><p>“What do you think you’re doing, Shittykawa?!” The abrupt use of his name and a strong epithet in one sentence had you reeling. He was clearly someone close to him, another devil by the looks of it, and seemed to hold some sway over Oikawa because he had the nerve to look embarrassed about it when he realized what he’d done. “You can’t just randomly kiss someone with angel dust in your system! You idiot, what if you’d poisoned her?!”</p><p>Oh, so that was the issue. You glanced at the blood running from his nose again, tainted with that silvery gray powder, and tentatively touched your fingers to your face. Dried blood stuck to your face like a second skin, along with the odd substance of that dust; not grainy, but enough of a texture to feel like loose, silky sand. You rubbed it between your fingers curiously and watched it fall to the concrete floor in shimmering flakes.</p><p>“Sorry.” Oikawa’s voice was older, but still held the same sing-song notes, just in a different tune. He was looking at you now, a look of apology on his face; sincere, although it looked bizarre on his face, as if it didn’t quite belong there, or if he wasn’t used to it. His friend looked like he’d been slapped in the face with a pan and left reeling. “Did you inhale any of it, [Name]?”</p><p>He did remember you, then, and it wasn’t just a fluke like you’d thought. It warmed your chest for a moment, that he recalled who you were, and then you were warmed by a different emotion: fury. He seemed to detect the rapid fluctuation in your mood, stiffening up and gauging you with new eyes as if he was sizing up someone far more dangerous than he was. Devils had the unique ability to sense emotions, you’d read, and manipulate them for their own gain, the opposite of angels, who sensed them and enhanced the positive ones. You only assumed that Oikawa was sampling your mood to sense your reaction to him.</p><p>“No.” You didn’t feel much else except the smear on your cheek from here his nose had pressed into your skin. There wasn’t any powder on your mouth either, just the faint tingling from where he’d brutally kissed you. “I don’t think so.”</p><p>His friend watched the interaction between the both of you with hyper focus. His face was contorted into one of extreme confusion and dawning suspicion, overlaid with a curiosity that needed to be sated. He looked to you then, those severe eyes narrowed in contemplation. “You should still get checked. Even the smallest particles could wreak havoc on human lungs.”</p><p>You recognized it for what it was—a way to keep you and Oikawa in the same room, technically alone, all for this devil’s curiosity and a need for answers.</p><p>“Okay.” You watched Oikawa visibly deflate in relief at your agreement; maybe not so much curiosity and answers, then. “I guess it would be easier to get it done here than pay the angels at the hospital.”</p><p>The hospitals were generally run by angels, at least in Eden. While their healing miracles were enough to cure stage two cancer, their magic was expensive—at least to human consumers. For devils, it was virtually unobtainable, ranking somewhere in the millions of dollars for a simple checkup. Kiyoko had told you that the devils had their own underground medical service, far cheaper and more convenient for humans, and that they only requested a favor in return, usually small things like to ferry a message between demon lords or play delivery human for a week depending on the severity of the wound or illness.</p><p>You wondered if you would owe someone a favor now.</p><p>Oikawa caught the look on your face, somehow ascertaining where your thoughts were going—or perhaps telling you what he thought you were worrying about. “You won’t owe anyone anything, [Name]. It’s fine.”</p><p>He was so… different from what you remembered. The same, but different; as if you’d walked into an alternate reality where everything was the same, but so changed from what you knew. You had to wonder what had happened to him in the years after you’d been adopted; obviously nothing good, judging by the tattoos on his body and the subtle scars raised underneath the ink.</p><p>“If you do, this idiot will just take it.” The friend thumped Oikawa on the shoulder, although it was hesitant. The devil didn’t seem to care, his gaze entirely focused on you. “Come on. I’m sure you’re starting to feel the angel dust take hold.”</p><p>He did look unsteady on his feet. Not only that, his pupils were starting to go wide, nearly obliterating the brown of his iris, and his fingers were twitching erratically against his leg. Your concern took precedence over your anger for a moment, watching him reach for his friend to support him  when he stumbled.</p><p>You followed them to the back of the building. The crowd was already thinning out so you were able to make it through fairly easily without worrying about the safety of your wallet or poor feet. A medic met the three of you halfway, looking harried, and escorted you to a room sectioned off with curtains to hide the other injured from view.</p><p>You sat down in a plastic chair across from a bed laid over with white sheets and a cheap cotton pillow that had been stained with old blood and virtually given up on. Oikawa sprawled out on it moments later, groaning when his muscles seized up in an effort to fight off the angel dust in his system. You wanted to reach over and comfort him, if only because he looked like he was in so much pain, but his friend stepping into the room and standing beside your chair stopped you from doing so. You knotted your fingers in your lap, twisting them every time Oikawa hissed at a particularly painful muscle spasm.</p><p>“Iwaizumi, how much do you think he inhaled?” The medic spoke to his friend, who you now knew was Iwaizumi—the same Iwaizumi that Lev had been talking about?—while simultaneously peeling open Oikawa’s eyes to check his pupils. He waved a flashlight over them several times, clucking his tongue. “Minimal response.”</p><p>“I’m not sure; probably enough to inhibit his body’s motor controls. It didn’t seem to affect him earlier.”</p><p>The medic scoffed. “He was running on adrenaline. Now he’s paying the consequences; I don’t have enough mandrake root to cancel out the purifying effects. He needs to let his devil take care of it.”</p><p>“No.” Iwaizumi’s voice and Oikawa’s overlapped, with Oikawa going on,”It’s too dangerous. If [Name] gets hurt—”</p><p>“Then your human form will die and you will be sent back to hell,” the medic stated bluntly. “I’d think your options are pretty obvious.”</p><p>“Oikawa,” you said, drawing his attention before another muscle spasm could render him mute. “It’s okay. I’ll just step out and—”</p><p>His irises bled over red before you could finish.</p><p>You watched in awe and slight fear as horns curled up from his head in wisps of char black smoke, four sets of them, each one framing his head and curving upward in a wicked rendition of a crown. They were black, darker than you could comprehend, with deep grooves in them that glowed red and gold, like the embers of a fire. The heat emanating off of him was oppressive, pressing down on your shoulders like stones, and you could feel your legs sweating and sticking to the chair.</p><p>“There,” the medic sighed in relief,”now, he should be perfectly fine—”</p><p>Oikawa leaned over the bed and, seemingly unable to control it, threw up silvery blood all over your feet, particles of angel dust shining under the artificial light. He slumped back in the bed, unresponsive,  the horns dissolving away into a mist above his head.</p><p>“Uh…” Iwaizumi inched away from you when the blood crept too close to his shoes. “I’m sure he didn’t mean—”</p><p>“It’s okay,” you interrupted, keeping your feet as still as possible. You couldn’t even be mad at him for it; you’d caught the slight panic in his eyes before he was leaning over the edge of the bed, vomiting up almost a bucket’s worth of blood on the floor and your feet. “I don’t blame him. Could I get a towel though? And maybe a shower?”</p><p>You felt gross, like you needed to scald every part of your body before you felt clean again.</p><p>“Yeah. Uh, we’ll just take Oikawa back to his place and you can shower there, since it’s his fault.” Iwaizumi couldn’t get out of the room fast enough, edging back towards the curtain and keeping an uncertain eye on the pool of blood at your feet. “Be right back.”</p><p>With the combined effort of yourself and the medic, you managed to clean up most of the blood besides the odd chalky stain on the floor from the angel dust, which the medic told you was common residue from demons stomach acid. Your shoes, however, were ruined, and you were stuck walking barefoot to Oikawa’s home while Iwaizumi carried him on his back.</p><p>The walk was quiet, as you’d expected it to be, but you didn’t expect the awkwardness that came with it. Iwaizumi always seemed on the verge of asking you something, looking at you out of the corner of his eye and then away again, grinding his teeth in frustration.</p><p>You had a hunch about what he was going to ask and said, reassuringly,”It’s okay, you can say whatever you wanted to ask me. It looks like it’s bothering you.”</p><p>“It’s not…” He sighed and shifted Oikawa’s weight on his back. “I’m not bothered. I’m confused. You… You’re obviously someone from his past. I just don’t understand who you are, or what you have to do with… him.”</p><p>“What do you mean?” He was confusing you now. “I’m not sure I…”</p><p>“Forget it.” Iwaizumi shook his head. “We’re here, anyway. Let’s get inside and get him to bed.”</p><p>Iwaizumi led you up several flights of stairs to an apartment overlooking Eden’s ocean front and the buildings before it. It was dark and somewhat sterile, as if Oikawa wasn’t really living there but just existing; he had no photos on the walls besides a small frame next to his bed, which depicted a group of men and himself and Iwaizumi standing in front of the fence in the fight club. He pointed you towards the bathroom while he gathered clothes to change Oikawa into, saying to avoid using anything with green labels on it because it was hazardous for human consumption, and left you at your own devices.</p><p>You took your shower in relative peace, eyes darting over the fairly plain yet occupied bathroom. It was obvious a man lived here, except for the odd feminine touch here and there—plush towels, rugs, decorative cups for toothbrushes, and even a toilet seat cap. You assumed it was to make it more appealing to guests, except Oikawa didn’t seem the type to have ‘guests’ from the appearance of the rest of his apartment. You tactfully avoided looking at anything else and changed into the only other spare set of clothes you had, which was a plain t-shirt and gym shorts that you’d planned on working out in later.</p><p>When you were dressed and clean, smelling of Oikawa’s shampoo which was oddly mute and consisted of downplayed notes of mint and jasmine, you exited the bathroom to find Iwaizumi sprawled out on the couch while on his phone, leaving you to sit in the chair by the glass wall overlooking the sea. Oikawa still slumbered away, so you retrieved your phone from your bag and sat down. Iwaizumi didn’t say anything to you, so you responded to a few messages from your adopted parents and screened over some emails from your college about classes resuming soon.</p><p>When you were done, Oikawa still hadn’t moved and showed no sign of waking just yet. Before you knew it, comfortable in the soft leather chair and tired from the day’s excitement, you drifted off, unaware of Iwaizumi’s observant stare from across the room.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>i wasn't very happy with this chapter but i rewrote it too many times sjsksksk</p>
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<a name="section0008"><h2>8. eight. (rewriting.)</h2></a>
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    <p>OIKAWA STARED AT THE true version of himself—really looked at the demon he actually was—for the first time in over five years. He stood in the metaphysical space he shared with the demon in his mind, a replica of the flower field he had seen you in all those years ago, with tall, spear-like trees reaching and bowing towards a single point in the sky. Stars of glittering gold and smoldering flame sparkled in the sky, globules of energy and power that seeped off of his demon that singed holes in the illusion’s carefully constructed walls.</p><p>Sometime after the demon had seized control during the angel dust’s more powerful reactions, Oikawa had been left to dwell amongst the illusory flowers alone. He wasn’t sure how long he had been asleep, as time worked differently for every demon and every inner space, but it couldn’t have been long. The demon wouldn’t allow him to sleep and part from [Name] for long now that she was back in his life, he knew, not that he himself would either.</p><p>She looked the same, but different—different in that she was older, had lost the rest of the baby fat she kept, wore her hair in a different style—and yet her aura was the same, unchangeable, and in it he found her a comforting presence. Even his demon, once raging for years on end, was sitting in the flowers across from him in placated silence as if he never knew the meaning of anger, fury, or destruction.</p><p>“Thou’st feelings of turmoil,” the demon noted. Deep set eyes of silver and red peered out at him through a frame of pitch black feathers, each individual one different from another and shining with the colors of an oil patch. “Prithee do not soil the peace of mine own world.”</p><p>“You’re one to talk about ‘soiling the peace of my world’ with turmoil.” Oikawa glared at the demon, watched as the panther-like  tail swept through the flowers in amusement. A bright cloud of magic rose into the air, the flower illusion breaking just enough for him to peer through it and see the darkness lurking underneath, and found himself reaching for one out of habit. “Why are we here?”</p><p>“Thy mind has yet to waken.” Another eye opened, somewhere upon a lithe wing secured to a feline spine, to observe him more closely while the original pair looked away. This eye glowed like the edge of a silver disk, interspersed with flecks of bright green and yellow throughout the iris. “It will be some time before thine blood clears the seraphim’s poison from thy blood completely.”</p><p>Abaddon—the true Abaddon, and not the elegant farce that was Oikawa Tooru—was a panther of gigantic proportions, although calling him a panther was ignorant of his true form. It was the closest the human mind could get to imagining him, at least in context. While the demon assumed many forms, his most favorite was that of a panther. However, twisted and turned by his dark power, anger, and divine origins as one of the original Fallen, this seemingly innocent form had been turned into something other; something more. He was no panther any longer, but a horrific mixture of wings, eyes, feathers, claws, poisonous spines, and razor sharp teeth that looked like they belonged in the mouth of a serpent rather than a semi-feline entity. The same set could be found in Oikawa’s mouth if he was incensed enough, filled with a unique and deadly poison that no power in Earth, Eden, Hell or Heaven could cure, for that was one of God’s many curses against him before he fell.</p><p>“The Fall,” Abaddon echoed, following Oikawa’s thoughts through their shared connection. “T’was eons upon eons upon eons ago the last I thought of such.”</p><p>The Fall was generally a touchy subject for all of the fallen angels within Eden. Oikawa was one of the few who remained, foregoing the harsh hierarchy of Hell and Lucifer’s overstayed appointment as overlord. Several others, such as Seraphiel, Uliel, and Adariel, remained with Oikawa as well—Iwaizumi, Matsukawa, and Hanamaki respectively—while several others left for Hell to secure their spots in the hierarchy. Abaddon’s equal and match in every way, Azrael, had been absent for so long that Oikawa could scarcely remember a moment after the Fall that she had been present in any realm to begin with. While Oikawa and Abaddon were the same entity, Oikawa mourned her differently to his demon: he recalled her fondly, and that was all. It was likely that she was at peace with removing herself from any and all affairs, and reasoned that she would not be happy elsewhere.</p><p>“Azrael was always finicky.” Abaddon rose to his paws and, with a shudder of all the muscles in his body, all of his eyes opened at once, alert and aware. “Although I did not call for thy presence to reminisce.”</p><p>Oikawa watched him pad closer upon massive paws, each one larger than his entire body put together twice. “Right. And I’m guessing this isn’t about [Name], or you wouldn’t be so tense.”</p><p>And Abaddon was tense, at least in the only way an inhuman being could be. The air around him trembled like a water droplet on a thrumming harp string. “While I am enthused that our adored one has come to Eden once more, there are rumblings of something foul afoot. I hear whispers on the wind that Michael has Fallen.”</p><p>“... What?” Oikawa blinked at his true self, disbelief etched onto his features. It echoed in every fiber of his being, to the point where he was numb. “Michael? The holiest of us all, the brightest creature of light—he Fell?”</p><p>“Yes.” Abaddon flicked his tail and a mirage of Michael flickered to life, depicted as he remembered the Archangel. Smiling, bright, with hair the color of embers, cheerful as he flew through the skies on six pairs of wings. “I do not know what name he goes by now, but do be careful. If Michael has Fallen, it concerns me what may be happening in Heaven. God has been absent for too long, even from the divine, and now his world is crumbling at the foundation.”</p><p>“And the four horsemen haven’t been called to serve,” he caught on, suspicion dawning upon him. He fixed the demon with a curious stare, watching as depictions of the four horsemen flashed across the illusory flowers in rapid succession, their faces too muddied for him to see. “Nor has Leviathan been released from his shackles.”</p><p>“No,” the demon agreed.</p><p>“And nothing else has happened?” Oikawa pressed. “Other than Michael’s fall.”</p><p>“No.” Abaddon’s thousands of eyes closed one by one. “It is quiet. Too quiet. But there is no need to worry thine head, not yet. But soon.”</p><p>“What’s wrong with you?” He watched as the demon laid down and rested his head upon his paws, a long breath exhaling from his nose. “You spent years being angry and now you want a nap?”</p><p>“‘Tis precisely that,” Abaddon rumbled tiredly. “I tire of the anger. A moment’s reprieve of mine own fury allowed for drowsiness to set in.”</p><p>Oikawa squinted. “And it had nothing to do with [Name]?”</p><p>A huff of amusement that rattled the illusion. “Perceptive. Yes, our adored one was the catalyst, of that thou art certain. A breath of fresh air after years of torment, I think, would do even the strongest of warriors in to their graves.”</p><p>“Huh.” Oikawa watched the flowers ripple and fade beneath his feet the deeper his demon fell into slumber. He would be leaving and waking up soon, then. “Well, it was nice seeing you not… angry for once. So I guess this wasn’t so bad.”</p><p>“Indeed not.” A red and silver eye opened to glance at him briefly. Then it closed again. “Avaunt. I tire.”</p><p>Before Oikawa could open his mouth and give a snarky reply, his eyes were opening and he was staring at a familiar ceiling—familiar because he could make out the pattern that had been etched into it. He stared at it in confusion, furrowing his eyebrows, because the last thing he remembered was being in the medic’s room and seizing up on the bed.</p><p>“Drink.” A glass was pushed in his face abruptly. He didn’t recognize the hand—the slender, dainty fingers wrapped around the center—and followed the hand to the arm and up to her face dazedly, as if waking from a deep dream where he wasn’t entirely present. “Oikawa?”</p><p>You. It was you. [Name]. Here—in his apartment?</p><p>He accepted the glass mutely and drained it in one hearty swig, grimacing at the taste without ever taking his eyes off of you. Your hair was damp, like you’d recently taken a shower, and you smelled faintly of his shampoo and soap; you’d taken a shower in his bathroom, evidently, and a quick snore from the couch indicated that Iwaizumi had been the one to let you. Not that he minded; he only wished it wasn’t so barren besides his photo and furniture.</p><p>“[Name],” he rasped, his voice low and cracking with sleep. “I didn’t think you would want to see me.”</p><p>“After puking on my feet?” You raised an eyebrow at him and watched his face contort into an embarrassed grimace. “Probably not. But know this, Oikawa Tooru, I am absolutely furious with you for not telling me you were a demon even when I was at the orphanage. You had every chance and you didn’t.”</p><p>“You had every chance to tell me you were getting adopted,” he whispered quietly,”but you didn’t.”</p><p>You didn’t look ashamed. If anything, it made you angrier, and he reveled in it. “I guess we both have some issues to work out then, don’t we?”</p><p>“Maybe.” He set the empty glass down on his nightstand and pursed his lips at Iwaizumi’s sleeping form on the couch. “How much did you tell him?”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“Iwaizumi. How much did you tell him about my—our past?”</p><p>“Oh. Nothing.” You shrugged loosely when he sent a look of doubt your way. “He was really confusing, but I guess he wanted to hear it from you which I could respect. But you may want to tell him, it was bothering him the entire walk here.”</p><p>“Ah.” Oikawa reached up and rubbed a hand down his face with a sigh. Then he collapsed back on the bed and stretched his arms over his head, the tattoos rippling with the movement. “That’s a can of worms for another day, I think. There’s been enough excitement for one day.”</p><p>“Right,” you said quietly. It was as if you’d never been apart for five years; you were comfortable in his presence and he in yours. There was no awkwardness, only unspoken anger and relief lingering in the air. “Well, I should get going—”</p><p>“Where are you going?” Sounding more alert than he had been, he sat up, watching you pick up your bag from the floor and rise from your seat. “I can take you.”</p><p>“No, no, you’re still recovering.” When he huffed at you, you made a point to poke at his nose. He winced at the pain that darted through the bone. “My point exactly. I have work tomorrow and I live all the way across Eden.”</p><p>She lived in Eden now. That was good; it was a start.</p><p>“Where do you work?”</p><p>“That’s a secret,” you laughed. He gave you an affronted look. “I can’t tell you everything when literally everything I’ve ever thought about you has been a lie, Oikawa. Is that even your name? And besides, it’s not like you’re volunteering information to me or your friend.”</p><p>“Yes, it’s my name, and no, it wasn’t a lie.” He ran a hand through his hair, cringing at the way his fingers caught in strands clumped with blood. “Not completely. I just… omitted a few details.”</p><p>“Yeah, well, when you’re ready to amend those details, I’ll be waiting.” You handed him a slip of paper with your number on it and headed towards the door. “But not tonight, Oikawa. Talk to your friend first.”</p><p>When the door slammed behind you downstairs, it left a very different feeling in the core of his soul.</p><p>Oikawa glanced down at the piece of paper in his hand and then at Iwaizumi on the couch.</p><p>“Shit.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>feedback is always appreciated! i actually live for it ngl so feel free to type your little hearts out please &lt;3 i tried adding more lore without overloading it with it so hopefully it's okay. you can check out my tumblr and ask me to write something for you if you want over at @catharticvillains ! please? :)</p>
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<a name="section0009"><h2>9. rewriting!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>hello! i've officially decided to rewrite this fic while it's still in its early stages. i didn't like how it turned out and i have a new vision in mind for it, which requires me to rewrite it and change the entire story. it's still the same, but some of the plot points will be a little different. the chapters will also be longer (around 5-10k words) but with updates maybe once a week as a result. i'm hoping this makes things more concise, clearer, and adding more lore in as well. &lt;3 it won't be taken down, but the chapters will be changed and go under the same name. :) i hope you all can forgive me for rewriting it so early, but it'll be 10x better, i promise.</p>
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<a name="section0010"><h2>10. title + new summary + excerpt.</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>here it is: the official premise of the rewrite! i'll be writing and switching the chapters out as i go along, so chapter one may not line up with chapter two, and so on, as i've done some pretty extensive changes to the story (in the lore and such) so don't freak out! i was hesitant to delete this entirely so i'm doing it this way instead;i hope you all don't mind! let me know what you think! &lt;3</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>OIKAWA TOORU FELL FROM heaven the moment he turned his gaze from God’s glory. An unnamed archangel of the highest order, he carved his name into Hell’s foundation, rising up through the ranks and escaping the fiery flames of eternal torture, abandoning Lucifer to his fate—agonizing, slow torment in the tenth circle of the Inferno. Without his divine powers and his soul still chained to Lucifer’s in his betrayal of Heaven, he is worse than fallen—he is demonic, closer to darkness than any angel before him. Even the great Morningstar himself, who still retained some shred of light within him as the Prince of Heaven, could not hold a candle to the evil brewing within the former angel’s soul.</p><p>	And God, in all of his omnipotent wisdom, shuddered in fear at the monster his creation had become.</p><p> </p><p>~</p><p> </p><p>	“[Name].” Feathers, like incandescent candle wicks, burned and sizzled to black ash as they touched your skin. The air was supercharged with electricity, the little hairs on the back of your neck visibly crackling with it. Blood pounded against your eardrums so loudly that you feared your tiny little human heart would burst at the speed. Not even the soft light of the moon could hide the color of the blood crawling across the raw soapstone floor: a potent, shining gold, mingling with thick, vermillion puddles near your knees. You watched the red and gold mingle, never mixing but touching, repelled like opposite ends of a magnet. “See? This is what I do for you.”</p><p>	Fingers, rough and slick with empyrean lifeblood, tapped under your jaw and pushed your chin up, tearing your gaze from the seraphic corpses and mounds of char black ash. The pale satellite in the sky cast heavy shadows upon the feathers showering from the clouds, turning them dark instead of the off-white they truly were. Almost like the man standing in front of you, wearing the face of an angel but owning the soul of a demon.</p><p>	“Now…” Oikawa Tooru’s eyes were nearly black as you finally met his gaze, zeroing in on the shimmering tears that crawled their way down your cheeks like molten silver. “I think you should try again—and with the truth, this time, or it’ll be your body at heaven’s gates for God to witness.”</p><p>	And you knew, with all of your heart, that he spoke true.</p>
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<a name="section0011"><h2>11. final note.</h2></a>
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    <p>i've begun rewriting and have already posted the prologue (the new one) in place of the summary. everything else should have 'rewriting' on it and will be changed whenever i finish the chapter. i plan to update as i finish the chapters, so maybe once every two or three days if i'm uninspired or sluggish, but if you want updates, you can find me on tumblr (@catharticvillains) or on twitter (since people seem to prefer that sometimes). let me know your thoughts on the new prologue! &lt;3 i'd really appreciate it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>twitter: https://twitter.com/catvillains <br/>tumblr: https://catharticvillains.tumblr.com/</p>
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